Tristan gave the inquiring man a strange look. "I know of a Dujek, but I know no necromancers by that name. May I ask why you wish to see him?" The cleric shifted his stance, wishing desperately that he had been smarter than to go around the inn unarmed. Problems are never convenient enough to catch you when you're on guard. He began to pray to Trigu that this would not become an issue.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Veitch. I have been hired by the folk of Thorp Tareholt to hunt down the miscreant" Veitch paused, licking his teeth, in a most disturbing manner.

"I would imagine, despite the fact that you know him, a Triguian would not consort with scum like him. Am I right? He is a graverobber and an eater of the dead. He managed to escape my clients' pitchforks, but he wont escape me. What kind of bountyhunter would I be if I could not honor the contract of thirty dirt-poor villagers. Where can I find him?", Veitch concluded quite pleasantly.

Veitch had not been afraid to state his intentions to this man who claimed to know the necromancer. He was an expert in his own particular field. No matter what this priest's reaction and response would be, Veitch would learn everything he needed to know.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

"Ah, tiny Ganse may be, but real strength does not lie in size - 'tis was a town of some renown for its mines and wealth, and it has not forgotten. It would take but one decent vein for it to remember its glory" Glordren smiled at the neglected streets around, feeling the pulse of gold that once flew so freely here, almost palpable was the glow of transactions that have taken place, on the border of audibility the past sounds of haggling, a faint smell still remaining of the gold once so freely spent here."Me, I am a seeker, currently of knowledge, amongst other things - there are some sites of historical and spiritual importance in the vicinity, mainly one I wish to visit - allegedly of dwarvish origin. Sounds almost like an adventure, right? This is just metal" the priest grinned, displaying two rows of well-kept blocky teeth. Those things can chew dwarven bread, which is no puny elven lembas, let me tell you.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

--Vallace the Whipmaster listened to Keykold’s tales and anecdotes, and roared with laughter, while somehow still tearing at a fried duck leg, swigging red wine, and pinching and kissing the two slatterns tableside. Quite impressed with Keykold’s tales, the Whipmaster went into a few of his own, and though these mostly involved his stories of his own uncanny whipwork, carnie tales or his bedroom antics with willing farmer’s daughters, they proved none the less entertaining. Vee liked this unabashed, lusty, and boisterous showman.

Before long, one of the woman, then both, began casting and dropping their watery, kohl-smeared eyes in Vee’s direction. Vallace paid little mind to the flirtation, drunk as he was, and kept right on talking and laughing. From all of the silly tales the carnival Whipmaster and “Liontamer” laid on Vee in the next few hours, two things stood out for Keykold, one particular bit of “minor” information, Vee found especially mesmerizing.

The first was Vallace’s wholehearted and generous offer to train Vee to truly “master” the whip. The giant, purple-pantaloon-wearing, clean-shaven carnie took a liking to the charismatic Keykold in turn, inundating the rogue with the “history of the whip”, all the advantages of the seemingly humble weapon, and techniques and feats that he, Vallace would be able to teach a willing, clever student.

Secondly, and vastly more important to Vee, though like a truly trained thief, he did not betray any emotion on his face when Vallace’s words made the hairs on his neck stand on end, was what the Whipmaster mentioned in passing. Those words, each one, were gold coins to Vee’s ears.

It seemed in one of his stories, Vallace mentioned meeting a strange “explorer” by the name of “Professor” Agaroy Zelmundt. “A strange but clever man”, Vallace casually described him, who had passed the carnival merely three weeks ago, heading north to some village and “forlorn tower” somewhere among the dreaded cliffs of the Great Escarpment, a few weeks north of here. He had mentioned a hidden library there, where supposedly a font of forgotten knowledge could be had for the enterprising souls who dared find it.

The tale was apropos of nothing, as Vallace merely mentioned that he shared a drink with the “Professor” one fine night.

To most, this name would mean little. To Vee however, well, it made the rogue’s heart skip several beats.

Professor Agaroy Zelmundt was an erstwhile scholar and rebellious sage of Nimz. It was Zelmundt who unearthed the first K’tonian instrument excavated in the last ten years, an Aluminum Windfan, if Vee recalled correctly. That was before he was ostracized for his radical theories, and left Nimz, vowing not to return, until he could “make fools” of his peers and colleagues. He was a trailblazer, a genius, and a kindred spirit, Vee thought, but had an undeniable and indefatigable character trait. Agaroy Zelmundt managed to rub everyone he had ever come across, the wrong way. He even scared off his own pupils and disciples, stalking off to find the secrets of the antediluvians alone.

An archaeologist, a mountain climber, a scholar in the truest sense of the word, and a tomb-raider non-pareil, yes, Vee thought, a kindred spirit, as he pretended to listen to the new tale Laughing Vallace was now spinning.

Suddenly Vee felt something soft bump his foot under the table. Looking below for the first time, Vee could swear a third vixen was hunched underneath the table. Had she lost something in Vallace’s lap? Keykold smirked.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

--Talia and the Jjuldae neared the Harpy's Kettle. So, she thought, he wanted to meet her "friends". Then so he shall, he asked for it, she smiled to herself as they entered the ramshackle inn. She was also glad she had made Loiha and Fando smile. Receiving bolts of Konos' red cloth as a gift brought tears of joy to the witch, and her paramour had thanked Talia profusely.

--Kadarin was coming downstairs now. His eyes were red and bleary as he entered the taproom. He needed nourishment, having left the equally exhausted Dujek napping and drooling. He glanced around and saw most of his companions gathered. Tristan seemed to be conversing with an exceptionally tall, lean traveler.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

OOC: Umm, I guess now would be as bad a time as any. I'm not going to be part of this next round of adventurering, I've got school related stuff that's going to be taking up a good chunk of my time, among other things. Sorry about this guys.

Logged

For the love of meat, shut up! No one wants to hear your emo character background! My hands are literally melting away, and I'm complaining less than you!—K'seliss, Goblins

"What kind of bountyhunter would I be if I could not honor the contract of thirty dirt-poor villagers. Where can I find him?" the gaunt man questioned Tristan. Moruz paused for a second at the entrance of the harpy's kettle before walking forth, Ouzala on back and the sickle held passively in his hand, still grasped from when he was studying it moments earler.The glass shifter felt uneasy at the casual sound of the bounty hunter's voice; it was too casual. The voice reminded Moruz of the Karnakti: The Ouzquin Dremorix's own 'interrogators'. That open and sharing tone was the one they often took; and if the answers displeased them, the next action would be to calmly slide a tiny sliver of sharp glass under the victim's eyelid, and watch on while the natural blinking reflex of when something's caught in someone's eye causes the captive to lacerate their own optics. Moruz had seen the Karnakti in action - at one stage of his life he had actually considered joining their ranks.Moruz stepped in the tall man's view, halting next to the cleric of Trigu and studying Veitch without word or expression. There was no hostility in his stance, but nor was there any hint of motion that could suggest anything but neutrality. Moruz was simply trying to make himself another presence of note for Vietch to have to watch.

Just noticing the tension in the air, Kadarin moved over to the bar to order a drink and some grub. No need to get involved until I've more information. Fat lot I could do in any case. Hope they're not serving fish.....

Kadarin was dead tired and hoping beyound hope that nothing untoward would happen.

But he still was interested enough to listen to the proceedings as well as he could.

"Hello there, gentlemen!" Aerex greeted cheerfully at the sight of Tristan, Moruz and Kadarin. His eyes immidiately caught the fishy man between them. Though he didn't look particularly aggressive, he also looked dangerous and the tension in the tavern was thick enough for his rapier to cut through. Something was most certainly up.

Aerex didn't let his demeanor bely his caution. "I've brought a friend, Sir Glordren Blarchtmir, son of Nromdar and cleric of Emrissa the Golden," the constable announced, making particular note of the dwarf's impressive status. "He's heard of our most recent exploits and wishes to discuss matters with us." He strode forward to the bar, tapping it rapidly with his fist. Aerex flitted his eyes and caught Moruz's hard gaze. Something's definatelyup, he thought. As the barkeep turned to fill an empty mug with ale, Aerex's eyes shifted once again to the bounty hunter. "And who might you be?"

"Fascinating," Vee said, still smirking from Vallance's personal assistant. "I would renjoy learning some more tips of the trade from someone as obviously gifted at it as yourself." Vee said. He wondered where the others were, and what they were up to. Undoubtedly getting into some sort of mischief no doubt. He wondered what it might take to convince a few of them to follow along with him up to the great Escarpment. He had never met Zelmundt in person, but the man's legend precedded him. If he was up there no doubt he was either following a lead to as yet unearthed vault or had already found one and was keeping it to himself.

The Triguian cleric kept a rather calm face, though his insides were twisting horribly. Was what this bounty hunter said true? Was the rather nice Dujek really an abominable necromancer? No, he would not subsist on rumors and misgivings. Until the man gave him reason to, Tristan would give Dujek all the trust he could. His attention turned back to the bounty hunter.

"What sort of man would you be to take the money of thirty poor villagers simply to track down and kill a person? Give me proof of such deeds and perhaps I shall change my mind, but until then, it would be in your best interest to consider returning your earnings to the villagers who rightfully need it and leave Dujek alone. Good day Mr. Veitch."

Veitch continued studying Tristan, as the Triguian spoke, much like a spider would a fly, his eyes running up and down the priest’s body, while his tongue licked his needle teeth.

“As you say, as you say. Good day. I will be on my way then.” he suddenly spoke in a calm, measured tone. His eyes darted from newcomer to newcomer. Veitch felt Moruz’ steady gaze and upon seeing the druid and dwarf seemed to reach a decision.

Without a further word, the outnumbered bounty-hunter turned on his heel and exited the establishment as quickly as he had walked in earlier.

All but Vee and Dujek were now gathered beneath one roof. Soon the sun would set and the ale begin to flow.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

Talia sighed. Was it just impossible that they could go a few hours without trouble? She supposed so. The bounty hunter, if that's what he was, would be back. Probably before they were ready for him. Mentally, she cursed Tristan. d**n that man, he should have just kept his mouth shut. Oh, she knew he'd been trying to help. It wasn't his fault, really. She turned to him, temporarily ignoring the big guy she'd brought with her. "I presume he was looking for Dujek. Do you know why?"

Squirrel stew? Just like mom used to make? “Thank you, nice lady, but Vorodon no be stay long, good? Vorodon want to know blind lady safe in house here. Friends here to be eyes for nice lady? I need for returning to Inn with friend Insecter. Bross, my friend from Army gone missing; I want will help to find. Insecter good at that!” he added in his most persuasive tone. The unfortunate woman didn’t seem to live in a very safe area, and the bulky veteran didn’t like the looks that some of the locals gave them as he escorted her to her home.

Letting himself in, he continued to reassure the woman in his broken Common, “If blind lady need help, Vorodon come quick like when get word! Vorodon strong; nobody mess with!” Too late, it occurred to the bulky Volgottir that he was probably wasting his time striking a heroic pose for a blind woman, but it helped him get a kink out of his back, so the effort wasn’t a complete waste. Fortunately, the woman’s humble residence had surprisingly high ceilings, so he was safe from banging his head as long as he watched for the beams.

As he picked up the scent of the warm stew, Vorodon promised himself that he would stay just long enough to be sure the lady was safe, and maybe down two or three bowls of squirrel stew, then he would hurry back to the inn. If he was to convince the others to help him look for Bross, he’d need a lot of time. After all, none of them spoke Volgotoi or even the patois that was common among the hill tribes; no, only the Common tongue. Even after all the years he had practiced it, his Common was still a bit rough.

A low almost inaudible growl, marked the satisfaction of the creature that had been menacing Jjuldae with such malicious patience. After all this time of having to bear the torment of knowing that the murderous coward responsible for his brother's death yet walked free, polluting the memory of the Stone Soul people with every breath of his , the Old Ones had finally granted him the vengeance due to him. It was for this that the White Wolf had come that dark night, ready to sink its fangs into his throat and push him into the ferocious, almost fatal embrace of the Old Ones. In their eyes, he had been found worthy, and they had altered him dramatically, granting him inhumane powers to deal with the living shame whose very survival was a screaming insult to the memories of the Stone Soul people that had callously died as a direct result of the traitor's druid's vile cowardice. His own brother had simply been one among many.

Tonight was a perfect opportunity to end this game of cat and mouse that he had subjected his hapless enemy to for so long. Among the vast assortment of pitiable freaks and monstrosities thata hs gathered here to be subject to the public humilation they seemingly craved with such ardour, none would notice him. In the eyes of any stranger, he was simply another pathetic abombination out to delight the twisted minds of the human cattle with its hediousness. His razor keen vulpine nose had led him to the door of this shabby establishment, pointing him towards the presence of the traitor. Sharp ears heard every whisper exchanged. His loathesome foe had shrewdly chosen to seek the company of outlanders, trusting that their presence would be suffecient to deter the one that so relentlessly pursued him. But he was hardly their concern now. There was another danger they worried about, one whose dreaded return was imminent.

Either they would remain behind to fight the warriors that the bounty hunter would undoubtedly bring with him, or they would scatter in terror and flee.

It did not really matter which course of action they took. In the end, there would still be nothing to put itself between Jjuldae and his avenging jaws. His hunger for vengeance would finally be sated as he'd feast on the scum's flesh and blood.

« Last Edit: November 15, 2006, 07:35:14 AM by Maggot »

Logged

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

Watching the bounty hunter leave, Kadarin's thoughts echoed what doubtlessly the other thought. He would be back, and with friends. Before then, if had not already been watching the place, he would send someone in to see who else was associated with Dujek.Heck, if he has proof of necromancy, he might be able to bring the entire town guard. Not that there was really any question of what the young mage persued, though it mattered little to Kadarin. There was plenty of room in the Art for all types of magic.

In any case, we are sitting ducks here when he comes back. If we leave, then he may be able to bring even worse threats to bear on the open road.

"Moruz," said kadarin quietly, "Do you think someone should follow the bounty hunter? Perhaps we should force the issue sooner then he wants..."

Lost in the midst of thought, Tristan had already turned to return to the upstairs when Talia spoke. "I presume he was looking for Dujek. Do you know why?"

He turned, giving a small sigh of relief at the lack of confrontation, and replied. "He was a bounty hunter. Apparently some small-town villagers hired him to track down Dujek for necromancy." The priest's eyes glazed over slightly as he stared off into the space between Talia and her companion.

As Vorodon (daintily) slurped his stew, Maegla the blind talked and sipped her tea. She first regaled the half-ogre with mundane minutiae, describing in detail how her grandparents had come to Ganse to try their hand at phosphorus mining, and how she herself had learned and mastered the tailor's profession. On and on she spoke as if she felt perfectly comfortable inundating her new acquaintance with her life story. She spoke of how cruel the young men of Ganse had been to her as she was growing up, and finally, she blurted out something that made Vorodon nearly choke on his spoon.

Apparently, Maegla had met and befriended Bross the Volgottor, the erstwhile city guardsman. Their friendship soon turned to more, and eventually the two became lovers. Maegla admitted that she and the ogre were secretly “wed”, secretly because Maegla feared the reprisal of bigoted and racially prejudiced Gansians, who bore little love for the kind-hearted giant, despite his loyal and effective service to the city. She went on to say how rumors began to spread, following the lovers’ union, despite the couple’s secrecy and discretion. She explained that Hepple Farax, a senior lieutenant in the City Guard, who had long pined for the beautiful blind woman, had it “in” for Bross, and the ogre’s standing in the guard became even more strained and difficult. It was only a month back, when Hepple had Bross attacked one night by hired thugs led by Hepple himself, that a climax was reached. The ensuing melee resulted in Farax’s lame leg, and though he was quite injured, Bross survived that night. No one could actually prove that “disguised” city guards, under Farax’s command were to blame for the skirmish, but Hepple Farax could only stare at Bross with silent fury and indignation, when Bross showed up at the barracks the next morning, undeterred, unafraid, and ready to work.

It was only a few days later that Farax “volunteered” Bross to escort some visiting dignitary north to the Great Escarpment. The half-ogre could not refuse an order, and bidding farewell to his love, did as he was bade.

Vorodon finally noticed that he had finished his fourth bowl of stew as he listened to this woman’s tale, and several hours had passed.

Maegla’s last words as Vorodon thanked the woman for her hospitality and rose to leave were this:

“I do not show it yet, dear Vorodon”, she lowered her voice, “But I carry Bross’ child in my belly.”

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

Aerex snorted. "Hmph. Even if it were true, he has no jurisdiction in Ganse. He'd have to have a Letter of Marque and Repraisal of some sort." And what if he does? a voice in Aerex's head countered. Would you let him drag Dujek off to death at the hands of an angry mob? The constable shook the thoughts from his head. It was something to worry about if the situation presented itself, not now. "I think we should keep an eye on him. Not provoke him, mind you, but watch him." He turned to Glorden, whom he almost forgot was there. "Have you ever seen that one, Sir Blarchtmir?"

Jjuldae had grown impatient with this rabble of settled people. So blind, so empty. So irritatingly broken in their unities, forced to bicker amongst themselves until they settled on a purpose.He cleared his throat, snarling gravelly and deep.

The bounty hunter left. Moruz silently watched the man until the closing door hid him, then glanced to Kadarin as the mage addressed him, "Do what you will - I, for one, will leave him be." the glass shifter looped the sickle he was holding to his belt and moved to a nearby wall, leaning against it passively. Necromancy was foreign to him - while it is practiced on occasion by the Ouzquin Dremorix, it is very rare in the deserts, and Moruz hadn't given it an opinion one way or another. These lands were not his world so he did not feel the need to comment on the bounty hunters' motives.The vulture-like newcomer began to growl, and Moruz paid it no mind - speaking and cutting in before Jjuldae had even finished his audible snarl, and addressing all of the group present, "At first light tomorrow I intend on travelling north; I hear there is a place you outsiders manufacture glass just beyond the great escarpment, and I need to obtain more barbs for my weapon. If any wishes to come, make sure you are awake when the sun rises. Whoever does not want to join me; Axtrami light your path." The Glass Shifter raised his hand to touch the hemisa inside his circlet as a form of farewell, before lowering it to his side and pushing himself away from the wall he was leaning against. He intended on walking from dawn to dusk tomorrow and to do that, he needed rest - perhaps tonight will prove a more comfortable sleep than the last few.